Lost and Found
by marysverse
Summary: Where have you gone little girl?  Where are you hiding?  What secrets have you taken to your shallow grave and with whom are you siding?
1. Chapter 1

Lost and Found

Chapter I: Into the Woods

* * *

"She hasn't given us anything."

"Are you telling me you can't accomplish this?"

"No, she hasn't given us anything _yet_." A chilling silence came from the other end.

"Try harder." A controlled, precise click informed him that the caller had hung up. He pulled his cell phone down from his ear, the plastic frame cracking in his too tight grip. He wasn't used to failure. If he were honest with himself, and he usually tried to be, he was having a tough time with this assignment. But sometimes, a lot of times, his personal views had to be sacrificed. She was the puppet master and had to accept the consequences for playing that role.

He walked into the next room; she lay unconscious on the cement floor. His shoes scuffed a gritty, steady beat as he approached her for inspection. She was a far cry from the pretty picture she had painted when he first met her. All shaky bravado and bitten back tears. No one would even recognize her now. He hadn't done too much, most of it was superficial, his tactics were designed for pain, bruising and swelling disfigured her flesh and angry cuts patterned her skin. When he had started cutting into her with a knife dipped in concentrated capsaicin, she had passed out from the pain, but not before spitting at him. However, he had hardly begun and that fiery spirit that he almost admired would be crushed like a bug under his heel. She would break eventually, everyone did, he just had to find the right motivation.

"Get her up." Weasel slung her limp form onto the metal chair, tying her hands behind the back of the chair to keep her in place.

"Wake her." He dumped a bucket of water on her, soaking her through and shoved a wet rag in her mouth. Picking up the red handle of a pair of jumper cables he touched the end to her neck, watching as her body arced in pain as the electricity coursed through her and she groaned awake. Weasel backed away and he approached her to remove the rag.

"Welcome back." He greeted her with a smile. She glared at him with one eye, the other covered by her wet hair. The faint smell of burning hair and flesh hit her airway and she wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"Missed you." She rasped out, her voice hoarse from previous screaming. He ran his hand through her hair, smoothing it back from her face. He would have to change tactics; he needed to move on to bones and joints.

"Let's begin again."

* * *

"Sammie!" he hissed out, searching the dark shadows for his mammoth form. He heard nothing but the creepy sounds of bugs and nocturnal creatures ferreting about their nightly rituals.

"Sam?" he tried again. A faint "over here" echoed back to him and he headed in the direction of the response.

"You find something?" he asked, silently cursing as he stumbled down the ravine where Sam was kneeling over something.

"Yea, a body."

"Same MO?"

"Too dark to tell." Dean pulled out a flashlight and shined it down on the body and let out a low whistle.

"Someone put this girl through a whole lot of punishment."

"Jesus, Dean, she's alive!" He looked over to where Sammie's gaze was fixated and saw that one of her fingers was twitching ever so slightly. Sam whipped off his jacket, his large size covering the majority of her naked body. Sam picked her up, wrapping his jacket firmly around her and followed Dean back his car. Pitiful whimperings came feebly from her mouth as she gradually gained consciousness.

Sam kept her in his arms as he slid into the passenger seat; she needed all the body heat she could get, her body was still giving off icy chills. Dean cranked up the heat and started the car.

"I think the closest hospital is twenty miles back." She grunted in response and Dean, fluent in nonverbal communication, interpreted this as a "no."

"Listen lady, you need a hospital."

"No hospitals" she whispered out. Her eyes were swollen shut but she managed to open them a hair to look at him. A glimmer of green stared him down as she commanded, "Promise." Dean looked at Sam, feeling inexplicably compelled to give in to her request. She was hurt and she was scared.

"Castiel." Sam mouthed silently to him. Dean watched her slowly slip back to oblivion and nodded his head.

"Hotel it is."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I don't know if I said this but this is a CHLARK pairing. I know I should move on because it's never going to happen, but they keep coming out to play in my imagination. What can I do? However, I have to caveat that by saying the pairing will take awhile to get to, I wanted to work on the development more. Thanks again for reading and please review!

Lost and Found

Chapter II: Sublime Intervention

"What do you mean? Your angel mojo ain't workin?" Dean and Sam stood in the far corner of the room with Castiel, speaking in hushed tones.

"I can't heal her. I don't know why."

"So we take her and drop her off at the hospital, problem solved. This is not a supernatural case, civilians should be handling her."

"She was terrified of going to the hospital Dean, we can't take her there."

"Look at her Sam, she needs proper medical care. What? Did they give you a medical PhD while you were down there?" a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"It always comes back to that for you doesn't it?"

"Enough! Listen Sam; I hate to say this but this girl is going to need some long time care. That's time I don't think either one of you have. She has a long road of healing in front of her."

"We don't have the time, we haven't even gotten a glimpse of this Nightwalker yet. We can't let him add more to his body count while we play nursemaid to some girl who is involved in god knows what."

Sam crossed his arms over his chest, trying to contain himself. Stepping in front of Dean, he stooped down so he was right in his face.

"Since when are you happy to leave a damsel in trouble?"

A thud and a mangled cry interrupted them. The mystery girl was on the floor, when arm stretched pathetically towards the door. The fresh pain from the fall must have made her pass out again.

"You see," Dean grunted while lifting her back on the bed, "we can't even keep her from falling off the bed."

Sam shook his head, "She didn't fall, she was trying to escape. I think we found her for a reason and I just get this feeling we are supposed to help her."

"Really? You think this is why he let you off his meat hook? Is she your great calling? Are you kidding me?"

"No! I don't know! I didn't know that you leaving your little slice of Norman Rockwell meant you'd be questioning everything I think and do. You want to treat my release from hell with suspicion and doubt, do it on your own time. Me, I'm grateful, and plan on doing any bit of good I can."

"How do you know you're doing good? Maybe this girl is a part of some end game the man downstairs is playing."

"I'm not going to live my life paralyzed by fear. Maybe that's what he wants, who the fuck knows?"

"Hate to interrupt your domestic bliss," a soft voice called out to them, "but could I get some clothes?" The trio turned to gape at the girl who only a moment ago was doing an Oscar worthy impression of an unrecognizable vegetable. She clutched the large jacket around her body, shifting about slowly, as if testing her movements. Her skin still had blooms of bruising but even as they looked at her, they were fading slowly to reveal milky pale flesh. She was a pretty girl, not quite girl next door, but definitely not an exotic beauty. Her features were small and sharp but decidedly feminine, high cheekbones sweeping down to a strong jaw line, her eyes dominated her face, a tired but sharp chartreuse staring steadily at them. Her question hung in the air as her rescuers continued to gape at her like she had just risen from the dead, which to be fair, she kinda had.

"What the hell is going on?" Dean asked, crashing through the heavy silence and squinting at her like he expected her to do some sort of magic trick as he watched her.

"Clothes. I'd like clothes." Chloe repeated slowly, as if talking to a very small child. Sam reached into his duffel sitting half packed in the corner of the room and pulled out a t-shirt. Keeping a safe distance away, he tossed the shirt to her. She looked expectantly at the guys. When they made no move to move she twirled her finger in the air.

"I'd go to the bathroom for privacy guys but I think that would be a bit troublesome for me." Cas got it first and grabbed Sam and Dean, turning them around to face the wall. Chloe swiftly pulled the shirt on, hissing softly as her arms protested the motion.

"So, where am I?"

"Kansas." Sam responded.

"Really? Seems sloppy." She muttered to herself.

"Why's that." Dean grilled, anxious to get some answers.

"Did you guys find anything else at the place that you found me?"

"No, we were a little busy _rescuing_ you." Dean responded sarcastically.

"Where in Kansas?"

"Granville."

"Oh my. Where is the nearest bus, train, or subway line?"

"Hold on sweetheart, why don't we slow it down. Let's start with your name."

"Can't say." Dean shot Sam an 'I told you so' look before turning back to her.

"Where are you from?"

"Can't say."

"Who left you for dead?"

"Can't say."

"What can you tell me?"

"I can tell you the quicker you point me a trans line the quicker I get out of your proverbial hair, making the answers to your questions entirely irrelevant."

Testing her legs she shifted them over the edge of the bed letting them dangle, gritting her teeth through the painful tingling sensation.

"How do we know you're not some demon? I mean ten seconds ago you looked like you were dropped off a bridge and now, you look perfectly fine."

She moved again so her feet were touching the threadbare carpet, using the bed to slowly put her body weight on her legs.

"Demons huh? That's different. Well, I'm supposing you have some methodology to test for this since I doubt they are so helpful they wear giant "Imma Demon" sign. Do your test."

Dean and Sam looked at each other again; they had already tested her while she was unconscious, but how was she taking this so calmly?

Cas impatiently stepped towards her, "I have to touch you," he explained, holding his palm open in front of him.

She cocked her head to the side, considering. "Well I hardly think you guys brought a half-dead girl back here to satisfy your sexual proclivities. However, I'm generally distrustful of anyone with supernatural tendencies so why don't you explain to me first what exactly you can do." Cas understood the inclination for caution, but waved an impatient hand at her, there were countless more important things he should be doing right at this moment instead of explaining himself to this girl.

"I can read your soul."

"Are we talking _Atlas Shrugged_ diatribe of my life or are we talking flash in the pan pop of color?"

"I'll see the intentions of your soul, where it hangs in the balance."

"Okay doc, but I gotta tell you, you won't find any black or white in there." He laid his hand on her shoulder, closing his eyes. She watched him intently, looking for any tic of expression. Honestly, she wasn't sure what he'd find in there, how she hung on God's scale; she had never given it much thought. He opened his eyes to stare into hers. His jaw slackened and his eyes glimmered.

"Cas? You alright?" She asked, touching his face with her hand to snap him out of the far away look in his eyes.

Dean stepped between them, grabbing Cas by the arm. "So what's the verdict, salt gun blast to the gut or what?"

"She's no Demon." Blinking his eyes clear, he walked to the door. "Sammie, Dean, walk me out?" Confused, the brothers followed him out leaving Chloe more than a little nervous as to what he had discovered.

"What's going on?" Sam asked as he shut the door behind him.

"I don't know exactly. I have to go. It is imperative you keep this girl with you until I get back."

"For how long?"

"I don't know, if you guys can't do this, take her to Bobby's."

"In case you forgot, we don't have time to road trip her there. Remember why we are here, demented spirit sucking the life outta people along with the eyes. Ring a bell?"

"Dean this is important."

"Why? What did you see?"

"Dammit I don't know!" Cas paced in front of them, clearly agitated.

"It can't be, she can't be…it's impossible okay. Literally impossible! I have to get answers!"

"We will work something out Cas, go do what you gotta do." Cas nodded, calming instantly, and blinked away. Sam turned to his older brother, ready for round two, but he merely shook his head and headed back into the room.

"Well," he called out to him from inside, "looks like our little problem took care of itself." Sam rushed inside to find Dean standing with a smug expression in the middle of a decidedly empty room, no sign of the blond.

Great this is just great!" Dejected, Sam sat down on the bed, rubbing the exhaustion out of his eyes.

"Well, we could take the car and do a box search, she can't be far."

"I thought you'd be thrilled by this? Besides, she'll hear the car and hide. We gotta do this on foot, with no idea what direction she went in."

"Actually, I think I know where she headed." Grabbing his hunting bag he headed towards the door. "Come on, we may be able to kill two birds with one blond."


	3. Chapter 3

Lost And Found: Searching Shadows

Why does she always end up in these situations? It's the dead of night and once again she's plunging into the darkness of an unknown wood line. Nothing against nature or anything, but she tended to hold some nasty surprises whenever she got up close and personal with it. Couldn't be helped though, she had to hope it was there, if it wasn't, then it was all for nothing. She had delayed her exit strategy to get it, she had endured _him_ for it, it had to be there. An unwanted shot of fear stiffened her spine when she thought of him, she couldn't afford to dwell on it. The organization was what mattered. They wouldn't stop; Dr. Fate's helmet had showed her that. She hadn't been able to understand a majority of the images that had flooded her. They had flickered too fast without any context to make sense of them, but she had seen that their current path would end in disaster. Whoever was controlling this group would keep coming after everyone she loved, doing just enough damage and distraction that when the storm came, they would be too weak to fight back.

The storm… She wished she had been strong enough to endure the helmet longer, because she had seen practically nothing about it. An unnatural ebony cloud of smoke billowing around a figure hooded in a blue cloak. The thing's eyes glowed bright, shredding the molecules of anything his gaze landed on. What was it? A pain gripped her head and she tried to blank her mind as it passed. She wiped away the wetness at her nose, her hand pulling away smeared in blood. First thing was first, she had to find what she had tramped out to the middle of nowhere for.

Another root caught her toe and she stumbled. Cursing, she continued her awkward clumping through the woods, her size five feet sliding constantly in Dean's too big boots. It was better than nothing though. It had taken Sam roughly 300 paces to get from where he picked her up to Dean's car, or so she thought. It was difficult to keep track while slipping in and out of consciousness. Doubling the number of paces to account for the difference between Sam's stride and her own should land her within a close vicinity of where she had been dumped, no problem.

The unwieldy boots chose that exact moment of optimism to snag, pitching her forward and down an incline of slippery leaves. Groaning out loud to no one in particular, she picked herself up and tried to get her bearings. She was in a ravine surrounded by carbon copy oaks and maples, couldn't have been the one that Sam had picked her out of, she hadn't gone far enough for that. How many ravines can one forest have? This was why she was a city girl through and through. Grumbling to herself and wishing desperately for the order of the grid like cityscape with clearly marked street signs, she tried to walk up the incline. She got about halfway up before her feet lost purchase and she slid right back down again.

She sat for a minute having herself a pity party, until her ears picked up a strange sound. It was low and constant, sort of like a whistle that never paused for breath. Maybe a soft wind was rubbing against the trees. But the dead leaves remained still, seeming to mock her as she stared for any sign of movement. Most people could chalk up the noise to anything else, an owl or a bat, and probably would think her paranoid for thinking the chipper whistle heralded the approach of the Nightwalker, but that was just the way the world worked. At least for her anyway.

Reaching into her boot, she pulled out the gun she had lifted from the brothers. She really hadn't intended to take anything other than clothes from them, not wanting to pay their kindness with thievery, but when she had picked up Dean's boots, the gun had clunked inside. And she really couldn't see it as a bad idea to have something to protect that was a bit more substantial then her bare hands. A heavy shuffling sound came form her right and she fled to the safety of an oak that was fortunately a few paces away. She pressed herself into the bark, the ancient skin biting into her, as she made herself as flat as possible.

Running was useless, her limited experience with spirits had taught her that at least. Then again, hiding didn't usually end well either. She eased the safety off and pulled back the hammer, the resounding click making her heart beat thunder harder in her ears. The slow dragging footsteps stopped. After an eternity she decided to peek out from the massive trunk. The burly form of a man was bent over a prone figure with blonde hair. Great, I'm his type. There was something odd about his clothing; he was wearing a collared shirt and slacks, both the same shade of desert sand. In fact, it looked like a uniform of some sort. It was still too dark for her to tell, the approaching dawn having yet to find a way through the thicket.

She prayed to whatever lucky stars that were out there that he was simply a good Samaritan that came across the body and was trying to help. Lucky stars? That's laughable. She took another peek, the tan figure leaned farther down putting his mouth on hers. Please be giving mouth to mouth, please be giving mouth to mouth. Her flimsy hopes were crushed as a smoky white light began pooling away from her mouth to his. Somehow she doubted that was oxygen. Taking aim on him, she tried to remember to squeeze the trigger, not pull. The bullet exploded out, missing him completely. The unexpected kick had stumbled her back a few feet and jerked her aim way off course. The man turned his face toward her, revealing a handsome man in his late twenties. He sent a smile that would have immediately disarmed her if she hadn't just witnessed him sucking the life out of someone.

Well, Plan B it is. She turned tail and ran, half hoping to entice him away from his victim and half hoping he wouldn't bother chasing after her. The pounding sound of heavy steps told her that he was definitely chasing. It was over before she was even able to really get going. His hand clamped down on the back of her neck. She had been wrong, he wasn't handsome, he was beautiful. She vaguely remembered wishing for something like this when she was in high school, without the whole soul sucking thing. He was mesmerizing, she fought against her desire to let him do whatever he wanted. He had such an honest face. And then he smiled and all the fight flew straight out of her. She stilled in his arms as her eyes grew heavy, straining against fatigue so she could continue to stare at his, what color were they? Like storm clouds from a summer shower. A thunderclap sounded out, bringing her back to high alert. His face transformed to a snarling beast as he turned round to find the source of the sound. Another deafening blow and he keeled before her. She backed away from his whimpering form, keeping him in her line of sight.

"Well fancy meeting you here, again." Someone greeted her and she spun around to find Dean casually holding a shotgun over one shoulder. Spinning back to the Nightwalker she saw Sam standing over him, palm out. The Nightwalker began to shriek in pain as he started smoldering and shrinking before her very eyes. Well, guess they had it handled then. She spun back around and started running.

"Now hold on sweetheart." Dean called after her. He started chasing her right as she reached the body. Wow, she really hadn't managed to get far, she needed to work on her cardio. She fingered her neck, hoping to feel a pulse. She was rewarded with a strong steady jumping rhythm at her fingertips.

"Just making sure your damsel is in one piece." She winked at Dean as he caught up to her. He leaned over Chloe to see a pretty blonde girl unconscious on the ground. Shaking his head, he couldn't help the smile that crept up on him. This girl was really something.


	4. Chapter 4

One Step Closer to Verve

"What are you guys going to do? Take shifts sleeping to make sure I don't run away?" Dean smirked at her question, lifting his eyes in disbelief before being drawn back down to what was important.

"Seriously? You guys can't tie me up or lock me in a closet every night! I'm not into bondage!" The volume of her words drew several gazes their way and Sam sunk lower in the booth.

"What the hell is this all about anyway? Why can't we just go our separate ways like any other normal strangers?" Dean took in a slow deep breath, relishing the heat. Chloe rolled her eyes in exasperation and snatched the object of his attention out from under his nose.

"Lady! You really don't want to be doing that." Dean warned her. His jaw was set firm, his teeth grinding together and the glint in his eye was downright murderous. She slowly nudged it back towards him, swallowing nervously and yanking her hand away as soon as it was back to its original place. He picked up the shiny metal object next to it and stabbed into it, not breaking eye contact from her. It wasn't until the first bite was in his mouth that he relaxed, letting out a sigh of satisfaction and chewing languidly. What was with this guy? She went to stand up; thoroughly done with whatever game he was playing when she felt herself being yanked down by Sam. He pulled her a little closer to him, away from his feasting brother.

"You really should just let him finish first." He whispered to her.

"This is his third slice!" She viciously whispered back.

"I think he's almost done. Maybe." Sam eyed him cautiously, trying to gauge whether or not he would go for another. She huffed loudly and slumped down in the booth to wait it out.

* * *

It had taken him much longer than he anticipated to find her identity. Someone had done a pretty thorough job of wiping any evidence of her existence. Thankfully her incredulity at being in Granville, Kansas made him pretty sure that she was from somewhere near here. He could almost feel it again. His feet stopped in front of a building. It was a skyscraper with a globe rotating at the top. No, this wasn't right, it was too faint here. He felt the pull against him again and his feet moved on.

There, it was that one. Her presence pulsed from it. He took a brief moment in the peace of it, closing his eyes to let it wash over him. He wished he could be by her side again for the real deal, but his job was to serve and that's what he would do. A blond man came out the door, a wistful expression on his face as he looked back at the building. Cas popped his watch off and approached him.

"Excuse me sir, did you drop this?" He held out the watch to him in his fist. The blond held out his hand to look at it, his palm brushing against his knuckles.

"No, I'm sorry. It's not mine. Thanks though, awfully kind of you to ask." He handed the watch back to Cas with his trademark playboy grin and walked to the awaiting car.

"No, thank you." Cas responded to the retreating car. He had anticipated needing more time to dig through his memories for her, but she had been at the very surface, dominating his thoughts. He finally had her name.

* * *

Dean and Sam towered over her, but she refused to budge from her seat.

"Are you really going to make me haul you over my shoulder?" The pie maniac threatened her.

"What if I just scream bloody murder and see how well you handle a diner full of concerned citizens?" Dean's smug smile reappeared.

"Well let's think this through. What do concerned citizens normally do?" He snapped his fingers at his own revelation.

"That's right, they call the cops. Now, would you really like to be making a statement to the cops? I'm sure they'll have a few questions of their own after we give them our statements." Damn it, she fumed to herself, he has more cognitive brain power than she had assumed. Stiffly, she got to her feet and followed Sam out the door with Dean following closely behind. Sam pulled open the front passenger door, chucking her inside and closing the door after himself.

"Is this necessary?" Chloe squeaked out, finding herself squashed between Dean in the driver seat and Sam in the passenger seat. These two redefined the term broad shoulders.

"Apparently, it is." Sam informed her as he grabbed her leg to prevent her attempt to nosedive into the back seat. Dean clicked the locks on all the doors and turned around to face her, giving her a little bit more breathing room.

"Now, lets talk about what you have in your hands. Something tells me that you didn't risk your pretty little neck going back into the woods in order to find your discarded outfit." Chloe clutched the precious bundle of clothes to her tighter and shrank herself farther down into the seat, a snarly expression settling on her features.

* * *

"I'm just saying, maybe you should keep a low profile, maybe even change up your disguise." Oliver rolled his eyes, sweeping open the doors to his office.

"I appreciate the concern Clark, but I don't see you keeping a lower profile."

"Well, I'm a little more…resilient than you are." Clark defended, following him in.

"I'd say you're a significantly more than a little." A voice called out to them. They both spun towards the intruder to find an averagely handsome man in a cheap suit and tan trench coat standing innocuously in the corner of his office.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Wrong hemisphere." He stepped towards them and Clark stretched out to grab a hold of him. But as fast as Clark was, he was faster and blinked away, reappearing on the other side of Oliver.

"Please, we don't have time for these things." Clark and Oliver both made a grab for him and he blinked away, showing up in Oliver's chair so fast it seemed like there were two of him. He pulled a sparse file out of his coat and reverently placed it on the desk.

"I need your help. I need to know everything about the person in this file." He pushed the file towards them. Oliver strode over, flipping open the file.

"Who is it?" Clark asked. Oliver turned to face him, holding the file open and Clark found himself staring at the face of one m.i.a. Chloe Sullivan.

* * *

Tick, tick, tick, tick. That's all she could hear anymore. Some 260,000 ticks had gone by since the run in with the Nightwalker and it was becoming painfully apparent that they had no pressing engagement to give her an opportunity to escape. Time was slipping through her fingers faster than she had to spare. She had to decide. Actually it was the lack of decision that was making it so difficult. She would have to disclose to them some information in order to achieve everything she had set out to do since she had faked her death. Well, faked being a questionable term. She still wasn't quite sure if the antidote had worked and that's why she was alive or if the sudden onset of her powers did the trick. Tick, tick, the cheap clock on the motel room wall mocked her.

Sam sat reading some ancient looking text at the kitchen table with her and Dean was slumped, half asleep in front of the television. She lifted her head off the table and sighed in defeat.

"Sam," she asked in a small voice, "could I have a knife?" He briefly flicked his eyes from the text to her, then back to the text. His eyes continued to move left to right, following the reading as he pulled a small leather handle from his back pocket, flicked open the blade and slid it over to her, showing zero concern for what she might do with said knife. She glared at his blatant dismissal of her being any sort of threat, but could not find the conclusion entirely wrong. Fighting off these brothers with a small three-inch blade would be comical to say the least. Slipping the blade into a well-hidden seam of her jacket, she quickly ripped open the lining. Fishing the stiff piping out of the jacket, she laid them out. Next she cut off the metal buckle detail at the neck, along with the buttons running down the front. Using her chair, she smashed open two of the buttons to reveal two, small silver discs resembling watch batteries. She sliced the piping open to reveal threads of wire hidden inside. Tearing open a small silver packet, she squeezed a gel mixture onto the threads and left them to harden.

"What are you doing?" Dean asked, mouth agape. Sam sat quietly across from her, following her movements intently with his eyes, his text forgotten on the table.

"This," she explained as she held up the silver buckle, "is a recorder. Primitive but holds up to thirteen hours of anything that makes a sound."

"So what's this other stuff?"

"A little bit of this, a little bit of that. Right now, I'm building a playback, couldn't fit that capability onto the buckle."

"This is what you went tromping through the forest for?"

"Mostly. This holds the key to cracking the Sanctuary." She grinned in delight to no one in particular as she began slicing the now insulated threads of wire apart.


	5. Chapter 5

Lost and Found: Who's God?

She cursed herself for not allowing for a more sophisticated playback. Then she wouldn't be huddled in the bathroom tub trying to keep herself steady as the audio playback forced her to relive every second in their custody. Her throat ached remembering how they tore every scream out of her. Where was a fucking fast forward button when you needed one?

Finally the screaming stopped, she could hear a thud, which she imagined was her body falling to the ground. The sound of shoes scuffing against concrete got louder.

"Two to the head." A low voice commanded, the voice of the man in charge of the Suicide Squad.

"Flag, she's definitely already dead."

"Put two to the head or I'll put two in yours, got it?" Two cracking sounds in rapid succession rang out giving her the sickly feeling of her hot and cold. Then a long silence followed by more shuffling sounds.

"Sir, she didn't make it." Flag must have been talking on the phone because she couldn't hear any response.

"Roger, body will be disposed."

"No sir…yes sir. Wheels up in ten, what's our next mission? ... Return to home base? … Steel, what's going on? … Yes sir, you'll have my report within the hour. … Roger Sarge, Flag out."

"Weasel! Get in here." Footsteps approaching.

"Get the team ready, we are heading back to DC. Do a clean sweep, burn everything."

"Including her boss?"

"No, we've got orders to dump her elsewhere."

"Why-"

"You ask too many fucking questions, get it done."

She turned the recorder off once she was sure there was no more information she could get off it. Steel, the name seemed familiar, but Flag had also referred to him as Sarge as well. Was that part of his name, or was it his rank? If it was his rank, she was screwed. She wanted the man calling the shots; no low level sergeant was going to be in that role. And their home base was DC, whether or not that was the Sanctuary she had spent the last year looking for, she didn't know.

She stiffly clambered out of the bathtub and splashed cold water in her face at the sink. The recording revealed so little, two tiny leads, but if she could get to her resources at Watchtower, she might be able follow the slim threads to something of a more substantial value.

Of course her watchdogs didn't seem so keen on letting her breeze out the door anytime soon. And maybe it wasn't a good move to return to the Watchtower, she would definitely be on their radar again. Perhaps following the leads while both sides thought she was dead would be the best way to sneak up on them. Then again, there was the mystery man that Doctor Fate's helmet had shown her. The organization wouldn't much matter once he appears on the scene. She didn't think tracking the organization would lead to him. She had to get a way for their organization to get on the same page as the JLA.

"What are you?" She whispered to her reflection, not seeing herself, but the smoke, the whip crack of a midnight blue cape and the destruction he left in his wake. Blood red eyes fill her vision and a booming voice overwhelms her.

'I am God.' The voice says, as if answering her question. Pain rips through her head and she grips her hair, willing it to pass. After what seems to be an eternity, her vision clears and she can see bright red drops of blood flowing from her nose and splattering onto the white ceramic. Washing up with shaky hands, she tries not to think anymore.

Opening the bathroom door, she stepped out to find herself face to face with four people waiting outside the door.

"Well, shit…" This was not going to be fun.

"Chloe!" She got one good breath of air before she was crushed against six feet of Kansas farm boy, well man, well, technically alien.

"Clark, I'm not going to be alive for long if you don't ease up!" She gasped out. The crushing sensation lessened immediately.

"What were you thinking? How could you do something so reckless? We could have found another solution. What happened? How'd you end up with these guys?"

"Ok, let's hit the brakes on twenty questions alright. I need you to take me to…well you know where." She said, giving the other three men a watchful eye.

"To your Watchtower Ms. Sullivan? Yes, that might be the best place for you. Of course Sam and Dean will accompany you there." Castiel agreed calmly.

"Sam and who gotta take her where!" Dean asked, feeling distinctly out of the loop of what was going on and not liking it. Chloe turned to Clark.

"You told him?"

"What? Wait, time out. This guy showed up out of nowhere demanding to know everything about you. Oliver and I wouldn't say anything until we had seen you."

"Oliver? Is he here?" Chloe looked around the small room and unless he was hiding under the bed, Oliver Queen was definitely not in the room.

"Work." Clark told her with an emphasis in his eyes.

"So apparently, you're the man with all the answers." She turned towards Castiel, affixing him with newfound curiosity. He wore the same boring suit with the same boring trench coat as he had when she first met him, looking every inch the mild mannered nobody she figured he was trying to portray. But if Clark Kent had taught her anything, it was that mild mannered people were never who they seemed to be.

"I don't have…answers."

"A theory perhaps?" Chloe countered.

"…"

"Listen buddy, you can't freak me out with whatever outlandish thing is swirling around that head of yours, I've heard it all. And, I've come to find that theories are more rapidly proven or disproven with an increase on the number of people in on the theory. So, let's here it." He walked over closer to her and Clark went into hero mode, putting his body in between her and him.

"Do you believe in God Ms. Sullivan?"

"I'm not sure, I've never really thought about it." 'I am God…' echoed in her head.

"I suppose I'm beginning to." She said with a frown.

"You should, you should believe…because that's what you are." Four jaws gaped open to stare at Castiel.

"Ha ha hahaha, I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh, haha, its just too…" Chloe gasped for air through her giggles and tried to sober herself. Clark started laughing with her and she lost all control as they ended up doubled over on the floor, wiping tears from their eyes. Dean and Sam let out small nervous chuckles, knowing better than to dismiss Castiel outright. Castiel remained expressionless, unfazed by their disbelief.

"Ok, so that's is definitely something new."

"Perhaps I misspoke, you…I'm not sure what you are, but you have the presence of God in you, I felt it the second I touched you. I've never felt this anywhere except in the presence of God. It's not as strong as when I have been with Him in the past, but it's there nonetheless." Chloe sobered immediately.

"You've met God?"

"Of course."

'_I am God_.'

"What's your God look like?"

"He can take on many forms."

"Okay, taking the reverence and worship aside, would you say your God was a good guy?"

"He's God." Castiel responded, not understanding. Quantifying God as anything other than God was not something he could wrap his logic around.

"Is there more than one God?" This time it was Castiel's turn to laugh.

"Are you serious?"

"Chloe, what's going on?" Clark piped up, unsure as to where her line of questioning was going.

"Dr. Fate's helmet showed me something. Big bad-ass dude bent on destroying everything, red eyes, blue cape, god like powers, and likes to go around calling himself God."

"There is only one true God."

"Back up a minute, what's this about her being God?" Dean interjected; feeling like this situation was rapidly heading towards an apocalypse.

"I am not God."

"I need to know everything about your past, figure out how this could have happened-"

"She is not God, I mean, I grew up with her, I think I'd know by now if she was God."

"This is important Ms. Sullivan-"

"Cas, how is this possible?"

"Everyone just shut up for a minute! Listen, I don't know what you think you are feeling, but you got it all wrong. I'm just a girl, plain old average grades, average hair, girl. I may have a slight upgrade to my DNA due to meteor rocks, but I'm still human. I've spent my life bouncing from one mishap to another and barely scraping by. I've had plenty of times where God like powers would have been welcomed with open arms, but guess what, never happened. Because I am not God, Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny, I'm me, just me. And if I or anyone else wants to continue being themselves in the living flesh, we have to stop a guy who thinks he's God from destroying the planet, got it?"

There was a long silence as her rant was digested and Chloe thought, finally, maybe they were getting somewhere.

"Meteor rocks?" Sam asked. 'So this is what it feels like to bash your head against a brick wall,' Chloe thought before settling down on the bed for what was bound to be an endless explanation on green rocks and meta-humans and aliens.


End file.
